


Almond Milk Latte

by Still_Dreamin



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Actor Louis, Coffee, Coffee Shops, Fluff, M/M, New York City, Rich Harry Styles, Snow, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 12:54:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5049373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Still_Dreamin/pseuds/Still_Dreamin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis works at a coffee shop and is a uni student in NYC trying to make his way into Broadway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Almond Milk Latte

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Ah, yes, New York city. The big apple, a lovely beautiful selection of humans resides here. Too many humans reside here, actually. Among everyone, is Louis Tomlinson. Twenty-one years old, sharp, narrow blue eyes, olive skin tone, he's a top model. No, he's actually the most wealthiest bachelor. Ok, he's a ballet dancer in the biggest ballet company who's name is.... Well, anyway, he works in an obscure coffee shop in the middle of New York City.

How quaint.

Louis groans as he puts on his apron. He hates it here. "Café Au Lait", in french it means "coffee with milk". He works in a coffee shop named "coffee with milk". Except, it's french, so it's fancy. That makes it "cool".

One hand pushing his fringe up and out of his face, he swings out from the back to enter the actual coffee shop.

Lovely place, really. The entire shop is deep reds and browns, warm colors that are inviting in contrast to the cold steel buildings the city is known for. Louis adores the comfortable feel of the shop, but he hates all the people here. He genuinely hates everything, really.

Café Au Lait isn't anything special. It's just that because of the area it's in that it gets so much attention. There's an outlet mall a couple blocks down and what does every shopper need? A drink in hand to add as an accessory. Oh, but again it's not just an accessory. It's a complicatedly put together work of art. 

That's where Louis comes in. A dash of that, a pinch of this. Wow, please punch your face while you add the whipped cream, it adds more flavor. Also, add a pinch of chocolate powder on the whipped cream, because that has any taste at all. Half skim, no whip. Cold coffee, hot coffee, tea as well!

The bell chimes at the front entrance, snapping Louis out of his thoughts.

"Good morning," He calls out, turning around to get a look at the people walking in, "Welcome in," He calls out, english accent thick and proud, gleaming through his words. Americans love it, so if he can't offer the customers a genuine smile, he can offer them his genuine accent with a hint of arrogance hidden under the classy sounding vowels.

"Morning," One of the ladies nods.

So it begins. He makes them pumpkin spice lattes with skim milk and no whip. Decently simple drinks.

He's at work alone till noon today. It is Thanksgiving tomorrow and everyone is either out of town or has people in from out of town. The population of New York City never changes around the holidays. If people leave for vacation, many others arrive for the same reason. Louis would leave if he could. But then again, he's got no family here and can't afford a round trip to England for a holiday they don't even celebrate.

Louis' shift ends at four in the afternoon today. He's been here since eight in the morning. After that, he plans on going to the nearly empty uni dorms and working on his Thanksgiving break projects. Then, he's going to prepare for a Broadway audition. Bam, that right there is the biggest thing happening in his life right now. Louis Tomlinson is going to audition for Broadway.

It's open auditions that are taking place. Louis plans on going in there and charming the hell out of everyone. Well, he'll try to anyway. Who wouldn't want a Peter Pan looking, very handsome boy working for them? Well, a lot of people once they hear him talk when he's not playing a character. But, Broadway will want him. They have to. That was the whole point of moving to New York City.

When noon finally comes around and Louis' coworker Aponi comes in, he greets her with an exhausted sigh and rushes to the back of the shop. He takes his lunch break there, wondering if Aponi celebrates Thanksgiving. It's an ironic holiday. It celebrates the Natives extending their welcome to the European immigrants who then attacked them. Yet, in America, people tend to forget what was done to these Natives. Aponi is a Native. But she doesn't sit in corners of dimly lit rooms and brood over stuff like this, or every thought that pops into her head. That's just Louis.

Louis puts his half eaten croissant back into the plastic sandwich bag and stands up, stretching forward and backward. All he's thinking of is the things he has to offer to Broadway. He's gorgeous, lets be real, he is. He's flexible, he's strong, he can sing and he can act very well. They'll definitely want him.

As soon as the clock hits four, Louis groans. He'd planned on rushing out right away, but instead, he's caught up making a frappuccino. The bell chimes before he's finished and he knows Aponi is still stocking up, still busy. So, he grits his teeth and passes on the drink, smiling and taking the payment for it.

The man who shows up behind the customer makes Louis' tightly clenched jaw fall slack. He's positively beautiful. Long, dark curls frame his swooping cheekbones and sharp jaw. The customer's soft bow shaped lips turn up in a smile and his green eyes sparkle when he speaks. Louis feels fluttering nerves in his stomach muscles but quickly chooses to ignore them. That can't possibly mean anything. Louis has never been attracted to anyone. All his relationships have been charities, lending the desperate people who asked him out a piece of his time.

"Good evening, Louis," The customer grins, voice deep yet almost nasally, slow and thick with a similar accent to Louis'.

Louis stands there baffled as to how the customer knows his name before he remembers the name tag displayed on his chest.

"Hello, what can I do for you?" Louis feels his voice come out lighter, in a higher tone than he'd spoken all day.

But then, the customer speaks again and the fluttering nerves in Louis' stomach turn into heated nerves in his head.

The man runs a large hand through his hair and sniffles, tanned skin tinged red from the cold, "Can I get a semi-iced half caramel, half vanilla decaf latte with no foam, a small swirl of whipped cream, covered in a pinch of cinnamon and perhaps a fresh cherry on top would be lovely."

Louis feels his slackened jaw fall slacker, his lips part as he stares in disbelief.

The customer smiles and tilts his head, eyes twinkling kindly, "And use almond milk, please."

Louis' eyes skim over his shoulder at the clock, it's five past four, as beautiful as this man seems at first glance, his choice of a latte disgusts Louis because he just wants to get home, "No."

The customer gasps, "Excuse me?" His eyebrows furrow, pale green eyes confused.

"No," Louis pauses and takes off his apron, "What the fuck?" He quietly whispers to himself.

"You can't treat a customer like this!" The man slams his hand on the counter.

Louis glances down at the large hand on the table then back up at the pissed off expression on the beautiful face. What a waste of beauty, really. Such a lovely face, yet such complicated choice of latte.

"I demand my almond milk latte," The customer takes a deep breath and pulls his hand off the counter, voice steady and calm, "I'm running late, I did not come looking for a squabble."

"What the fuck?" Louis lowly replies, "No," he enunciates clearer. Then, he spins on his heel and exits into the back of the shop.

Aponi looks at him confusedly when he storms through to the back door.

"There's a customer," He simply tells her, grabbing his coat from the hook and stepping out before she can respond.

Louis heads straight home to his tiny dorm room and collapses on the bed. Life has been so dull for him lately that all he can really think about is the Broadway audition. The play the audition is for is "Angels in America". Louis is auditioning for the part of Louis Ironson. It's ironic that the character he's auditioning for has the same name as him. But deep inside himself, Louis sees that as a plus. He already is Louis. All he has to do is memorize the play and go from Tomlin to Iron, he's even got the "son" part down. The transition to Iron can't be that hard.

Louis has done multiple plays, hell he even acts in his daily life. He acts when he talks to people and pretends he gives a genuine fuck about anything they're saying. He acts when he smiles back at idiots he'd rather turn his back on. He acts when he dramatically laughs to the stupid things with the few humans he associates with as friends. "Friend" really is a strong word. That's not quite the word he'd use to describe them. On the other hand, he'd also like to pretend he has friends, so he will continue to use that word.

The audition is in two days and so far all Louis knows about the play is that it takes place nearly thirty years in the past. He's aiming for the role of the man who leaves his lover on account of him having aids. Well, Louis also finds himself thinking that he'd never possibly love anyone, so if he did find out his so called lover had aids he'd actually leave. Tomlinson and Ironson are so much alike. Louis chuckles under his breath as he sits up, grabbing the audition script off his table. He hasn't gotten the full play, but he found it online easily enough and figured out the plot. 

Turns out the original play was written only for eight actors, requiring each actor to play two or more roles. Thankfully, Broadway isn't doing it that way. They claim it's for the audience's sake, to make it less confusing and more enjoyable. Louis on the other hand, who does not even fully have faith in Broadway, believes it's because they're simply incapable of performing it that way. On a large scale, plays get complicated far beyond what they are. It's the same thing with life. You have to keep plays small and they can be simple, and one actor can play multiple roles without nerves getting in the way.

Time passes quickly, Thanksgiving day passes in a blur of Netflix marathons and refrigerated pie eaten straight from the pan. Lonely, would be another way to describe the holiday.

All of that goes quickly, and the next thing Louis knows is that he's dressed up in a plain black sweater with black jeans, sitting outside the theatre waiting to audition.

When his name is called off, Louis stands up and shoves the script into the bin on his way toward the doors. He's not really nervous. He's kind of excited. But mainly, he feels an odd sense of reassurance. If this doesn't happen, nothing is lost. And if it does, then so much is gained. There is no negative side to this. But then, Louis pushes through the doors and the first judge he sees is Almond Milk Latte.

Louis' mouth suddenly dries as he stares at the glossy green eyes, soft and inviting, yet narrowed in challenge, or perhaps simply in recognition.

Louis takes a nervous breath, all confidence suddenly dissovled, "Hello, I'm Lo-" he starts before getting interrupted by Almond Milk Latte.

"We know who you are, get into place on the taped 'x', please," Almond Milk Latte takes a deep breath and folds his hands under his chin. In a voice deeper and steadier than what Louis heard in the cafe, he utters the next word, "Action."

Louis' mind goes blank for a moment, thoughts lost in the pale green eyes staring at him. He hasn't even looked at any other judge yet. There is no way he's getting any part now, not at all-

"Action!" Almond Milk Latte repeats, louder this time.

Louis startles into the scene, gesticulating and enunciating as he had practiced in his stuffy dorm room. He heard no outside noises then, and he hears none now. In fact, he disappears from the stage and finds himself in the 1980's. Tomlinson hasn't even been born yet. It's all about Ironson.

Louis nears the end of his audition script and says the line with the perfect hint of exaggerated despair in his voice, eyes gleaming with honest emotion, "Maybe we are free. To do whatever. Children of the new morning, criminal minds. Selfish and greedy and loveless and blind. Reagan's children. You're scared. So am I. Everybody is in the land of the free. God help us all."

"Fantastic," Almond Milk Latte shouts at him from the judge table, "You may now leave and we will get back to you, after the other auditions."

Louis squints at him for a moment, knowing very well that his was the last audition, "Sure, of course, you're probably going to have to discuss all the auditions."

A female judge beside Harry grabs his arm suddenly and whispers frantically in his ear.

On the stage, Louis lowers his head, running his tongue over his teeth, the taste of victory making it's way to him.

"Louis," Almond Milk Latte sighs out, "Actually, we'd like to let you know that you are the best actor we have had come in for the role of Louis Ironson."

Louis looks up slowly, sly smile playing at the edge of his lips as he innocently questions, "Really? You liked my audition?"

Almond Milk Latte smiles and nods, "That is precisely what I just said. You may leave now, we will most likely call you tomorrow morning a little after ten or send an email with further information."

"Thank you," Louis nods, turning to leave. He takes two steps and looks back to see Almond Milk Latte's eyes following him, he's still softly smiling. With every move carefully played out, Louis winks at him, enjoying the surprise on his face. Then, Louis flips back around and sashays out, swaying his hips like the utterly confident, beautiful prick he is.

The next day, Louis gets a call while he's aggressively wrestling his chemistry homework. He swipes off his glasses and answers the call with the most professional tone he can conjure. It's a voice he doesn't recognize on the other end of the line. A part of him was hoping for a call from Almond Milk Latte himself. The message he receives is to come to a final audition tonight at the same theatre. The rest of the actors that have been selected will be there as well. Tonight at seven, he will attend a two hour audition session to find out if he gets casted or not.

At five, Louis locks his dorm room behind himself and jogs down the hallway. He's slung an Adidas jacket over a translucent black t-shirt. He may or may not have chosen the translucent shirt while thinking of a certain pair of green eyes and slender hands. But, he's not going to admit that, not even to himself. Louis being attracted to anyone is an absurd idea. Why would some seemingly rich and arrogant Almond Milk Latte change anything?

Before going to the auditions, Louis springs by work and helps himself behind the counter. Aponi throws questioning glances at him while talking to a customer. 

Now, what the hell was it that the bastard had asked for? Louis scurries around grabbing ingredients. Almond milk, caramel, whipped cream, a bit of cinnamon powder, and make sure there's no fucking foam! Louis taps his foot, thinking. It was totally decaf and the prick had asked for a fresh cherry. Grumbling about the idiot, Louis throws the drink together within minutes and rushes out, checking his hair in the glass door. Soft looking volume up top with a natural side-swept fringe of chocolate brown hair. He looks proper cute if he's being honest. The shirt on the other hand probably adds a hint of hotness in the mix. This is a lovely combination. Did he just tell himself his shirt adds hotness? He's going to pretend he didn't actually use the word "hotness". 

Louis arrives at the theatre and casually struts in. You never know who's looking, you should always walk like a peacock, like you know you're the most beautiful creature in the world. If you don't believe you are, then pretend to be. Louis on the other hand, knows his looks are top model material and walks like he's getting paid to strut down a runway in Yves Saint Laurent. 

During the wait to sign himself in, Louis accidentally starts sipping away at the drink in his hand. Only when he gets inside and crashes straight into Almond Milk Latte does he realize what he did.

"Oh, fuck," Louis groans, holding the drink out at arms length so as not to spill it all over the black suited chest his face just slammed into.

"Excuse me," The low voice resonates deeply from within Almond Milk Latte.

Louis looks up and smiles apologetically, eyes immediately finding the pale green, "I got you your latte to make up for being a prick but I accidentally may have taken a few sips of it," Louis blurts out, eyes wide and lips pursed as he tries to act completely natural. The latte is only for brownie points, nothing else.

Almond Milk Latte smirks at him and takes the drink out of his hand, "Who invited you tonight?"

Louis pales, "I got a call, you told me yesterday that I would."

With a laugh, Almond Milk Latte takes a sip of the... well, the almond milk latte. Louis' eyes focus on the soft lips touching the cup he just admitted to drinking out of of. Pale green eyes flick down to the top Louis is wearing then immediately come back up, "You weren't supposed to be invited to the auditions, darling."

Confident Louis dissolves into a puddle of disappointment as he looks up and down at the expensive suited, tall figure. Almond Milk Latte's suit is probably worth a year's tuition. Louis spins around without another word and heads for the exit. What was he thinking? Did he really think anything could happen for him at all? Nothing will happen, not with Broadway, not with black suited, curly haired Almond Milk Latte. It takes two seconds for the dreadful emptiness to settle in the pit of his stomach and appear heavily in the air again. Mess up a rich man's coffee and he'll mess up your life. That's like a known fact. Well, it's not but it should be noted somewhere because it is totally true.

Louis slams through the doors with his shoulder and stumbles into the chilly night air. Snow swirls into his face and he completely regrets wearing the nonexistent shirt. What did he wear it for? To get attention from a rich maniac who couldn't give enough of a shit to let him audition again? He grinds his teeth together and stares down at the asphalt, zipping his jacket and shoving his hands in the pockets Soft white flakes stick to the slick, black ground.

When Louis reaches his car he wraps his fingers around the metal key and has just pulled it out of his pocket when a rough hand lands on his shoulder and spins him around.

"When I call out your name, you should probably stop and listen," Almond Milk Latte huffs, "Geez, you walk fast."

Louis clenches his jaw and stares at him, eyes narrowed to slits. Louis hadn't even heard his voice. Louis' own thoughts were loud enough to drown out all other noise, "Yes, what is it?"

"You were supposed to get an email saying you received your role," Almond Milk Latte tells him, eyes soft and void of any hint of anger or arrogance or revenge or anything except just softness, simply softness... pale, green softness.

Shock echoes across Louis' face, "No way, are you serious, Almond Milk Latte?"

Almond Milk Latte's features scrunch into an adorable smile, "Did you just call me an almond milk latte?"

Louis blushes at that, "Um, no?"

"Harry Styles," Almond Milk Latte laughs, extending a hand out to Louis, "We might have met at the wrong time before," He smiles subtly, "But I'm willing to forget that."

"Yeah, that would be great," Louis sighs, cringing on the inside at the memory of the way he'd acted in the coffee shop. All confidence is bundled up at the back of his mind, emptiness from the air and his gut gone, as if it were never there, "I'm Louis Tomlinson."

"Louis Tomlinson," Almond Mi- Harry repeats, "Rolls off the tongue quite nicely."

Louis squints at him, smiling, and without really meaning to, he leans toward him and Harry responds right away. The almond milk latte splashes to the ground between their feet, hot coffee spilling across cold asphalt. Harry steps up to Louis, grabbing him around the waist to pull him in for a deep kiss, the kind that whispers promises that no kiss ever should.


End file.
